


Iconoclasm

by Fallowfield



Category: Naruto, Naruto Shippuden
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 04:02:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17738660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallowfield/pseuds/Fallowfield
Summary: Catch me on twitter @fallofield!





	Iconoclasm

The naked trees watched them as Madara finally faced his demons, taking Hashirama’s face into his hands. The kiss was surprisingly tender. He felt Hashi’s body collapse with surprise, then fall against the fold of the tree. Finally a force that actually caught this laughing spirit off guard.

The tree bark bit into Madara’s knee. He opened his mouth. He heard Hashi laugh lightly, and he could feel his smile spreading. Their breath billowed around their faces as their eyes met. Madara just saw the laughter and ease reflected there. How could he brush the terror off like it was nothing? 

Madara felt the heat in his face. It only seemed to make the good humor he saw multiply. Then he felt Hashi’s fingers, benign and adept. They combed out his tension and doubt, bit by bit. He unwound the braids of the winter branches, kissing each bud. The vines coated and warmed his walls, beaten down by the winds. 

His boy was never shy. Madara shut his eyes for a moment, blinded by his light. It wasn’t fair that all of him already flourished, that there were no buds to kiss. Madara wanted his hand to have weight, as a gardener. But what role could he play? He felt he had to stand back for fear he’d spread his flames. But sometimes the trees extend their own branches. Maybe the burning needs its own house, its own ephemeral structure. There was a reason their offerings could spark such passion, and so willingly, with such laughter.

Hashirama pulled him forward and wiped the soot off his face. Here they were, heretics, but Madara felt he looked upward. An act of mercy, wiping off the damning marks. The fates were binding his hands and pulling him away from this light. This comfort. He imagined being able to awaken at dawn next to him, shackleless. The strings of his heart wound around his throat. 

Hashirama could see his eyes now. “You look sad.” But he didn’t need to ask why. The generations of rift were quite a weight and they made his heart not his own. He didn’t forge his own path. But for now he yielded, leaning back against the tree. “Shhhh…” His gaze traced downward, and Madara watched his lashes, tendrils of silk. Madara followed him, the bridge of his nose against his jaw.

“Mads….light a fire.”

And he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me on twitter @fallofield!


End file.
